


Variations II

by DefyingNormalcy



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Sentimental fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefyingNormalcy/pseuds/DefyingNormalcy
Summary: A companion piece/sequel to “Variations.” Influenced by Margaret Atwood’s gorgeous poem, “Variations On The Word Love.” “Joan’s heart beat wildly as she merged her bare flesh and tousled hair with Vera’s. This connection, this yearning, this was home, and Joan would do anything to protect it.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the wonderful Ifitbelove for her edits on this.

xxx 

 

Joan’s heart pulled her to the land of consciousness, like a douse of icy water, the moment that she had registered Vera’s presence in their bedroom. Joan felt the mattress dip next to her as Vera’s slight weight exhaustedly rolled over to her in the middle of the bed. Joan shifted, retreating back to her side in order to make room for Vera’s limbs which always spread out and took up an amusing amount of space in their bed; Joan hadn’t had the heart to stick to her side when she first climbed into bed, it left too large a void. Feeling Vera struggle with the simple task of getting under the covers, Joan sat up and reached for her worn lover.

 

“Vera,” Joan breathed as she gathered Vera’s tiny body and pulled her into her lap. Joan’s heart beat wildly as she merged her bare flesh and tousled hair with Vera’s. This connection, this yearning, this was home, and Joan would do anything to protect it. 

 

Vera’s arms wound themselves around Joan’s broad shoulders and neck whilst her forehead leaned against Joan’s. Her thighs were on either side of Joan’s shapely hips and her bare sex sparked despite her exhaustion as it slid against Joan’s stomach; since moving in with Joan, Vera had seldom worn anything to bed. There was no point really, since Joan almost always removed said clothing moments after Vera joined her in the luxurious king sized bed. That, and the older woman gave off heat like a furnace, eliminating the need for Vera to wear anything. 

 

“Mmm, missed you,” Vera sighed. She delighted in the feel of Joan’s kisses along her jawline and her large hands mapping out the contours of her back. She smiled to herself as one of Joan’s hands indulged itself by caressing Vera’s arse for a few moments before returning to less erogenous areas on her body. “I missed you so much,” she said, her voice trembled and her tired eyes gave way to warm, silent tears. The events of her double shift flashed through her mind, but she willed herself to focus on Joan’s strong embrace. Joan’s lips spoke a language of their own against Vera’s skin; she felt each declaration of love against her as though Joan had spoken the words directly against her heart. 

 

Joan could discern the tension in her lover’s body and she felt a tightness in her chest at the realization that something had happened while on duty this evening to make Vera’s tender heart ache. Immediately Joan’s mind began to organize a series of actions that she would take to rectify whatever had harmed Vera, beginning first with an interrogation to decipher exactly  _ what _ had happened. But her sweet lover yawned loudly against her shoulder, and Joan conceded that Vera’s rest was more important right now than her own plot for revenge. 

 

Vera normally squirmed and tossed and turned and rubbed up against Joan for  _ ages _ before finally falling asleep. The first few times that Joan had shared her bed with Vera it had been most unnerving, Vera’s affectionate nature ballooned between them and Joan had inadvertently hurt Vera by scooting away from it and residing at the edge of the bed. It wasn’t long however, before Joan found herself craving Vera’s taut calves sliding up and down her own legs, Vera’s full lips puckering against any bit of exposed flesh of Joan’s that they found, Vera’s arms flailing around to grab hold of and wrap around any part of Joan that they encountered, and Vera’s crinkled nose rubbing playfully against Joan’s neck and cheek. Tonight, there was none of that. There was only weary exhaustion and heavy limbs barely holding themselves up against Joan. 

 

“Come, sleep,” Joan said softly as she guided them back down onto the mattress. Vera did not resist her at all. Her limbs folded obediently like a ragdoll and Joan had to push down the swelling anger she felt in her chest again at whoever had exhausted Vera so completely. Joan ran long fingers through Vera’s unruly curls and watched over Vera patiently as her body relaxed fully and her breathing fell into a practiced rhythm.

 

Vera fell asleep with her face buried in the soft swell of Joan’s breasts and her arms wrapped around Joan’s well-defined waist. The steady beating of Joan’s heart, which she knew to be alight with love for her, lulled her into a dreamless sleep. 

 

xxx 

 

It was hours later that Vera woke. The persistent heat and brightness of the sun could be ignored no longer, and so Vera had turned over to seek out the much more pleasant warmth of her lover, only to be greeted by emptiness beside her. Vera’s eyes blinked open slowly and she sighed, Joan was rostered to be on duty this morning meaning that Vera would be alone for the next several hours. 

 

Vera groaned aloud as she rolled over onto her back and stretched. She felt a few faint pops in her lower back and hips and let out a grunt as her limbs fell back onto the mattress. She felt goosebumps break out across her breasts and stomach and she pouted as she was yet again reminded of the lack of Joan’s presence. Were her lover here, Vera would have been delightfully helpless to the loving attack of Joan’s lips and teeth against her bare breasts. Vera smiled to herself warmly, she loved that Joan was always so openly appreciative of her body. 

 

They were not a couple that could be described as traditional or even alternative. In fact, many people looked right past them and the deep love that they had for one another, deciding that it simply wasn’t  _ possible _ for two women such as themselves to live and love together. As much as Vera accepted their need to remain private about their lives together, it saddened her to live in a world that so hurtfully dismissed not just the possibility, but the  _ fact _ that they were in love. She knew of course  _ what _ people scoffed at, the difference in their ages, the difference in their heights, the difference in their personalities; they saw their oppositions as weakness and thus proof of the improbability that Joan and Vera could actually make a home together. 

 

They were wrong. Vera loved Joan’s markers of age, she loved the brown spots that decorated her hands and chest and she absolutely adored the silver and white strands that broke up the black of her hair. Vera loved Joan’s long legs and broad shoulders, and while she sometimes wished that she could be tall enough to kiss Joan without standing on the tips of her toes, she did love that she was just tall enough to easily pop open the buttons on Joan’s shirt and kiss her beautifully sensitive breasts and neck. Joan was imposing and dominant, and at times impossibly stubborn, yes, but she was also vulnerable and fiercely protective of Vera and Vera loved her all the more for sharing those parts of herself with her. More than anything, she loved that the older woman, who to the rest of the world was reserved and tightly-controlled, had within her a capacity for passion so deep and all-consuming that it often took Vera’s breath away. 

 

Sitting up and reaching for her phone on the nightstand, Vera let out a sigh. The next several hours of her day would be dreadfully dull, no doubt, but she was more than looking forward to seeing her lover walk through their front door tonight. 

 

xxx 

 

Joan unlocked the door to the house with a cleansing sigh and the hints of a smile. Opening the door, she could hear Vera humming as she busied herself in their kitchen. Joan was exceedingly quiet as she closed the door and slipped her shoes off. She lowered her keys into the bowl by the front door slowly, and silently reached up to unpin her hair and shake it out of its confines. Vera hadn’t yet registered her presence and Joan took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her young lover fluttering about the kitchen. She noted that their dining room table had been set for two and adorned with a small vase holding dozens of blooming violets; the breakfast counter also displayed a similar floral arrangement. Joan smiled and it reached all the way up to her eyes; her Vera was devastatingly sentimental at times. 

 

What felt like decades ago, for time seemed to have slowed down from the moment that Vera had first boldly touched her lips to Joan’s until now, Joan had found Vera in the staff lunchroom reading a thick volume on the history of flora. 

 

_ “Planning on growing a garden, are you Vera?” Joan asked. She sipped her tea patiently and delighted in how her deputy’s ears glowed a pretty pink. The room was abandoned except for the two of them, and Joan hoped that it might remain that way for a while longer.  _

 

_ “Oh, well, yes,” Vera stuttered, “Not so much a garden as a little flower box. I’ve sold my mum’s house and I’ll be moving into an apartment in a few weeks. I thought that it might be nice to have some flowers out on the balcony,” she explained.  _

 

_ Joan nodded and took a seat next to Vera. “What kind are you thinking of keeping?” she asked with genuine curiosity. Joan had something of a green thumb herself and she found herself more excited than she had any right to be at the fact that she’d discovered a mutual hobby of Vera’s.  _

 

_ Vera closed the book and sat up straighter. “I was thinking of lilacs, since they smell so lovely. And white roses, I just think that they’re so beautiful...and, well, erm, violets.” Vera’s blush turned crimson.  _

 

_ Joan nodded her approval. “Sounds lovely,” she said. She meant it.  _

 

_ “D-do you know the history of violets?” Vera squeaked.  _

 

_ Joan shook her head. She checked her watch and surmised that she had a few moments to indulge both Vera and herself. “No Vera, I am afraid that I don’t. Care to enlighten me?”  _

 

_ Vera took a deep breath. They had been dancing around one another for months now and Vera had grown desperate for an overt confirmation of the older woman’s mutual attraction. She’d tried everything, invited her over to dinner, painstakingly cooked her favourite meals, worked double shifts without even being asked, brought her tea on especially long and daunting afternoons, but Joan was as impervious as ever. Rarely did Joan let her mask slide and even then, it was only for scant moments before Joan had secured it back in its place. Vera had no true indication if Joan thought of Vera as anything other than a coworker and occasional friend and she was growing desperate.  _

 

_ “Women used to give them to one another as a symbol. As...as a symbol of their love for one another. It was a secret language between lovers you see, and it was necessary because they couldn’t openly say so, you see, and well,” she stuttered, “they’re very beautiful,” she finished lamely. She chewed her bottom lip nervously and waited anxiously for Joan’s reaction.  _

 

_ Joan’s eyes darkened and her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip. “I see.” Her tone was even, it betrayed nothing.  _

 

_ Vera frowned. “Yes, well,” she hastily checked her watch, “I best be on my way, erm, rounds,” she explained clumsily.” She felt her heart deflate slightly and she held her book to her chest as if the worn pages might protect it from further disappointment.  _

 

Joan had been unsettled by Vera’s boldness that day. Her ill-concealed confession had woken parts of her that had been dormant for so long, Joan had doubted very much if they could give Vera what it was she wanted, what she deserved. Yet her deputy had only continued to surprise her, for at the end of their shift, Vera had shown up in Joan’s office with a single violet in her trembling hands. 

 

Joan still recalled how nervous Vera had been. How terrified  _ she  _ had been. 

 

_ “It’s a selfless gesture,” Vera started, reciting what was obviously a well-rehearsed speech. “It would mean the world to me if it was reciprocated, but, if not, then that’s okay too. I just want you to know,” she said.  _

 

_ Joan stared at her, dumbfounded.  _

 

_ “Right, well,” Vera’s lower lip trembled and she placed the flower on Joan’s immaculate desk, “I’ll be leaving now. Have a good evening Govern-” _

 

_ “Vera…” Joan’s eyes darted from the flower to Vera. Her heart hammered loudly against her chest, willing her to reach out and stop the younger woman from leaving. “I…” She tried to speak up, she tried to will her heart to govern her words but she found that she couldn’t.  _

 

_ Finding the last ounce of courage within her, Vera rounded the desk and stood on the tips of her toes. She brushed her lips against Joan’s handsome jaw and, feeling no resistance to her actions, gently pressed them against Joan’s.  _

 

Joan shook her head happily at the memory of Vera’s bravery. Her lover had shown her nothing but patience and unselfish love in the months that followed that momentous evening. She had forgiven Joan’s fumbled, frightened attempts to push her away and she had waited with infinite patience for Joan to finally verbalize her love, which did not come until a month after Vera had already been living with her. Now, Vera danced around their kitchen, brow furrowed in concentration as she prepared what Joan knew would be not only a delicious meal for them, but likely also one that she particularly favoured. 

 

Joan sighed. God she loved this woman. 

 

She loved this woman so fiercely that she had ripped through the group of women who had harmed her yesterday with such a fury, with such rage, that even Bea Smith had been wise enough not to get in her way. 

 

Unable to resist any longer, Joan walked up and behind Vera, resting her hands on Vera’s slim waist and pulling her petite body against her. She buried her nose in Vera’s fragrant hair, it smelled of coconut and lavender, and inhaled deeply, the action causing Vera to arch her back against her and let out a deliciously soft mewl of approval. She was so open and receptive to Joan’s touch, so  _ trusting _ , it made Joan’s blood boil and her skin prickle splendidly. 

 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Vera said happily as Joan’s hands slipped under the soft cotton shirt that she wore. She giggled as Joan’s fingers tickled below her navel and began to slide under her jeans. “Dinner first, desert later Joan,” she said with mock-sternness. 

 

Joan sighed against the side of Vera’s neck, creating a fine path of goosebumps all the way down her neck to disappear into the swell of her cleavage.  _ Mine, _ Joan thought fiercely; Vera was hers to love, hers to touch, hers to protect.  

 

“Mr. Jackson informed me of what took place during your evening shift yesterday,” she said. Well, not informed so much as Joan had cornered and interrogated him until he finally broke and embarrassedly shared with Joan what had happened to Vera. She felt Vera stiffen in her arms but she was ready, her hands refused to leave their place against her abdomen and her lips connected with one of Vera’s flushed cheeks. 

 

“Did he now?” Vera asked nervously. 

 

Joan turned Vera around in her arms and regarded her lover with unabashed tenderness. “Vera,” she started, her voice low and rich. 

 

Vera shook her head and frowned at herself as she felt tears spill down her cheeks. “Ugh, I’m being so silly,” she said self-deprecatingly. She felt Joan’s hands cup her face and her wide thumbs gently caress her cheeks. “The women...just…”

 

Two women from Juice’s crew had given her hell in the exercise yard. They’d snuck in a pack of cigarettes and when Vera had approached them, one had lunged forward and put out the cigarette against Vera’s shoulder. Thankfully, the thick wool of her uniform protected Vera’s skin from any real harm, but the large woman had then tackled Vera to the ground like a rabid animal. Will’s quick reflexes had saved Vera from any further injury, but she had been utterly humiliated and laughed at by the entire yard of women as she was hastily making her way back inside the prison. 

 

“I have slotted that  _ vile  _ creature’s entire group of friends along with herself. Privileges have been removed from all of them for the next three months and Smith has been warned about keeping the rest of the women under control,” Joan said. Her lip twitched as she recalled how satisfying it had been to personally escort that group of irreparable women to their lonely confines. She felt a sense of calm overcome her as she reminded herself that they were at her disposal now, and she would not allow them to see the light of day for many weeks to come. She might even let them rot there, the thought sent a shiver of delight down Joan’s spine; they would never be able to harm her Vera again so long as she was Governor. 

 

Vera sighed, but leaned in to Joan’s caresses. She knew that questioning Joan’s chosen punishment for the women would be an unforgivable move, and so she simply conceded to her lover’s decision. 

 

Joan’s hands left their place on Vera’s face to slide down to Vera’s waist. She effortlessly guided Vera to the breakfast countertop behind them and in one fluid motion, lifted Vera up and on top of the cool marble. Vera’s legs encircled Joan’s waist and Joan buried her face against Vera’s neck and jaw. 

 

Vera groaned as Joan’s teeth scratched along the prominent vein in her neck. She felt the sharp edges sink in nearly to the point of piercing her flesh and she felt a responding ache in her sex. It didn’t take much for Joan to turn her on, and Vera had spent most of her day thinking about her lover and what delightful things they’d get up to once she was home again. Vera wrapped her arms tightly around Joan; one wound itself in her thick hair and the other filled itself with the firm flesh of her backside. 

 

“I will not let them touch you,” Joan said as her tongue soothed the worried skin, “Ever. Again.” She punctuated each word with a brutal suck of Vera’s tender flesh. She would not allow Vera to succumb to harm. She would not allow anyone to wound Vera’s gentle heart. 

 

“I know. I love you,” Vera whispered fiercely into Joan’s hair. She knew that Joan blamed herself for what had happened to her. She knew that for the next several weeks, Joan would insist that they both be rostered together on every shift so that she could keep an extra watchful eye on her. She knew that to argue with this impossibly, endearingly stubborn woman would do them both no good and that for the sake of their relationship, Vera would simply have to accept Joan’s overprotective tendencies in the spirit in which Joan meant them. With unabiding love. 

 

“Let’s forget about work for tonight, hmm?” Vera pleaded softly. She was becoming dizzy from the delicious suction of Joan’s mouth and the feel of Joan’s hot, firm hands pawing at her. Vera was full to the brim with want for her lover, but if Joan continued, there was a very good chance that they wouldn’t surface for air until morning. She laughed, bright and clear, as Joan’s teeth tugged on her ear. “Joan, I swear to God, I did not spend all afternoon in this kitchen to have dinner spoiled!” Vera swatted Joan’s hip lovingly and pulled gently at the hair in her hands. 

 

Joan’s eyes were dark and glistening as she pulled back from the heaven of Vera’s neck. Her lower lip was trembling slightly and Vera found herself being knocked backwards by the fierceness of Joan’s love which was rolling off of her like hot, slick lava. 

 

“Come now,” Vera said brightly as both her hands came up to cup Joan’s face. Her lips anointed Joan’s elegant nose, chin, and cheeks with soft kisses. “I’ve tried your recipe tonight, you’ll have to tell me if I’ve gotten it right.” She nodded her head in gesture to the grilled vegetables, salad, and baked chicken all in various stages of preparation on the stove, counter, and in the oven. 

 

Joan surveyed the woman in her arms and sighed contently. “Of course. Everything smells delicious,” she said and she felt her heart swell at the look of pride on her beloved’s face. Her hand left Vera briefly to reach out and pluck a violet from the vase next to them. 

 

Gently, Joan worked it between Vera’s curls and tucked it behind her ear. The symbolism of the gesture certainly not lost on either of them, Joan leaned forward to seal her declaration of love with a gentle kiss. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Variations On The Word Love 
> 
> This is a word we use to plug  
> holes with. It's the right size for those warm  
> blanks in speech, for those red heart-  
> shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing  
> like real hearts. Add lace  
> and you can sell  
> it. We insert it also in the one empty  
> space on the printed form  
> that comes with no instructions. There are whole  
> magazines with not much in them  
> but the word love, you can  
> rub it all over your body and you  
> can cook with it too. How do we know  
> it isn't what goes on at the cool  
> debaucheries of slugs under damp  
> pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-  
> seedlings nosing their tough snouts up  
> among the lettuces, they shout it.  
> Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising  
> their glittering knives in salute.
> 
> Then there's the two  
> of us. This word  
> is far too short for us, it has only  
> four letters, too sparse  
> to fill those deep bare  
> vacuums between the stars  
> that press on us with their deafness.  
> It's not love we don't wish  
> to fall into, but that fear.  
> this word is not enough but it will  
> have to do. It's a single  
> vowel in this metallic  
> silence, a mouth that says  
> O again and again in wonder  
> and pain, a breath, a finger  
> grip on a cliffside. You can  
> hold on or let go. 
> 
> \- Margaret Atwood


End file.
